Sunday, November 9, 2014

Good Morning Jacob

Letter to my SonSunday, 9 November

Good Morning
Jacob…

Drawings
make better words when something incomprehensible needs to be said. Today I needed utter black and white to
replace the spoken word. I’ll call it Sphinx:
141109. Adding the date makes
the title useful – like a journal entry.

Of course,
it is a woman. If there is an enigma of
the female sex for males it is mainly because they are so important to us. Women are the center of our lives. For this reason it is imperative we work
their puzzle.

I’d like to
think I am done with politics. I’ve
sworn it off numerous times before. It
comes with an unhealthy constant agitation.
In a democracy the election appears as an end-point to the
struggle. In fact, the struggle begins
anew once all the votes have been cast and counted. Some people live for this endless battle of
wits and ideas. It wears me down. I have other things to do. Right now I feel like an alcoholic waking
from a bender. I swear to God, never again. But you know how that goes. Actually you don’t, but I do as do so many
others.

What strikes
me is how close to intoxication romantic love can feel. Is it any wonder we often exhibit poor
judgment while under its influence? I’m
not talking about sexual desire here.
That’s a separate topic. No, I’m
referring to the insatiable interest we have in another individual. The affair can become an obsession,
especially if we’re sixteen. We get
territorial. People might think us
neurotic. During this period of greatest
intensity it might seem advisable to have our driver’s license suspended. We should be warned not to work around heavy
machinery. Lovers are prone to loose
fingers, even limbs, while in their distracted state. Their impaired judgment makes them a danger
to themselves and others. It’s a
blessing we don’t all fall passionately in love simultaneously. Society could not survive such a lapse in
attention.

How likely it
is government will one day prescribe a lithium-type drug to suppress our emotional
passions. Legislators will point to data
that irrefutably proves lost worker productivity when one becomes romantically
involved. This is a personal indulgence
we simply can’t afford in the competition that comes with global
economics. We have all experienced the self-destructive
side-effects of extreme emotional involvement.
Like sexual desire, romantic love is biology run amuck. Sensible people are quick to realize human desires
are not in good taste.

Show me the
rational basis for a passionate embrace.
No one can say it puts food on the table or helps pay the mortgage. These are tough times. We require serious remedies from sober minds.
If you find yourself fantasizing about
sharing your life with another then slow down.
Come to your senses. Think of the
pitfalls. Rest assured there will be
grief. Romance is easily crushed. Everyone has sung the blues more than
once. It gets worse. You have heard of lover’s leap, haven’t you?

I’ve made my
point. Simply say No! to that lingering
kiss, evening walks along the seashore or, heaven forbid, sharing a bed. I know how wonderful it all sounds but that’s
the devious nature of biology. Before
you know it you’re hopelessly hooked to another human being. They are so unreliable. Guess what happens next? Before you know it, two people become three
and sometimes four, five or more. Now
you are swamped in love. You find
yourself worrying over all of them. It’s
a nightmare. Where’d all the good times
go?

Women and
men: what is the meaning of this? For that matter – any two people falling in
love. I suspect there is a master plan
here. Maybe we are meant to get all
tangled up with each other. Alone we can
focus. We’re productive, resourceful…
powerful. We can be dangerous. Falling in love helps diffuse our destructive
potential. We snuggle when we could be
devising diabolical plans for world domination or, at the least, plundering our
neighbor’s possessions. Instead of
warring against nature we develop a curious interest in words that rhyme. We write silly verse about someone’s eyes or
the smallness of their hands. We allow
ourselves to daydream. We notice the clouds. We stop and watch at length someone special
doing nothing in particular. That’s
love. It’s filled with stupid stuff that
makes us feel right. Funny, isn’t it?